1 The Half ÷ He Lacks 2
by Amaniachwen
Summary: One wonders what kind of person it takes to love Snape. But isn't the bigger question what kind of person does it take for Snape to fall in love? Read his story to learn the answers. Rating might be upped in later chaps.
1. How It Starts

Disclaimer: Excluding the ones I made up myself, none of these characters belong to me. Aight?  
  
Stuff: Any fragment sentences are intentional. Believe me, I only make them if I think they should be there. Otherwise, they tick me off. Haha :3  
  
Quick Pre-Chapter Author's Note: I have fixed the espan~ol in this chapter. Thank you, Spanish Gal, for your extremely helpful input! :) *showers her with candy and flowers and what not* You are the best!  
  
1 The Half / He Lacks 2  
  
Chapter One: How It Starts  
  
It was a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and summer vacation had come to an end, its tone of terror still hung in the air. Lord Voldemort was back now, and everyone knew it due to the occurrences of the previous school year. Everyone had left Hogwarts, no longer anticipating the summer now that the threat of the Dark Lord was omnipresent.  
  
But now the students were back. They poured into the Great Hall as a seething mass of various colored flesh, and yet, somehow, order came to them all as each individual found his or her place at one of the four impossibly long tables. The sound unending soppy steps of soggy shoes was overwhelming. Each head of each being bobbed as each conversed back and forth with each other. It almost disgusted him how they all appeared so pleased and excited with the chaos of it all. One moment.... Never mind. It did disgust him.  
  
"Good evening, Severus," said a very old man on his far right as he took his seat at the center of the adults' table.  
  
"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore," he replied, nodding slightly in respect.  
  
"I trust you had a pleasant summer vacation?" the headmaster inquired pleasantly.  
  
Severus Snape's lip curled in a smirk as his mind flooded with sarcastic thoughts. The months of June, July, and August had been filled with projects concerning the enemy, all of which he was playing traitor on the foes' territory, at the heart of their matters. He never knew whether he was to be found out and killed one day or the next; he never knew whether his lying mask, his deadly charade would fall apart on its own or if someone would shatter it himself. In short, it had been an extremely and undoubtedly unpleasant summer.  
  
Fortunately, Dumbledore was Snape's truest ally, and he knew all this already. This was one less lie he must tell.  
  
"Pleasant enough, Headmaster. And you?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled sadly and almost mischievously. "My vacation," he said after a moment, "has been a little of everything, I'm afraid. I almost have difficulty making heads or tails of it."  
  
Snape turned away from him, the smirk still playing across his pale lips. Albus Dumbledore was always one to give ambiguous answers to simple questions. And sometimes the not-so-simple ones.  
  
"You'll be pleased to know we have an influx of first years," Dumbledore continued with a smile that held some knowledge of the why and incentive of this fact. It was, as he knew, because so many parents were now aware of Lord Voldemort's return. Hogwarts was well known to be a place he could not set foot for fear of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes," Snape mumbled. "I'm simply ecstatic." He taught Potions, a required course for all students. More first years meant more students for him to deal with.  
  
Dumbledore was close to saying something else when someone caught his eye.  
  
"¡Buonas noches, Senorita Silva! Que alegria verla de nuevo," he greeted fluently.  
  
Silently, Snape turned away and began to glumly visualize his classes for the coming year. He was very gifted at Potions, but his only goal in life other than dying a slow, cruel death by Lord Voldemort was to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He prided himself for his skills in that area, but Potions was where he was to stay for the time being, it seemed. Potions wasn't as dull as it sounded, he had to admit. There was always some sniveling student who botched his overly simple potion and caused harm to himself in some grotesque way. Like that Longbottem git. Or those morons of morons, Crabbe and Goyle. If Snape were daft, he might wonder how that simpering Malfoy boy could stand the pair of them, but Snape knew from experience that a bully's best companions are raving idiots.  
  
Snape was interrupted from his hateful thoughts by Professor Flitwick, who was quite eager to talk about his great niece, who was starting into school as a first year.  
  
"She just turned eleven, you know. She says she can't wait for Charms lessons. Oh, I know I shouldn't favor her over the other students, but I'm afraid it will be very difficult. She's such a sweet little girl."  
  
Attempting to be polite, Snape managed a small smile, but to be completely truthful, it would have made a baby cry. Flitwick grinned and continued his blabberings.  
  
Finally Flitwick's tongue was put to rest, though only temporarily, as the first years filed into the Great Hall and marched nervously to the front of the professors' table. Indeed there were several of them. Snape heard Sprout murmur to Trelawny that she counted sixty-one heads in total. He quickly did the math mentally. Sixty-one students would mean on average at least fifteen to a house, and two houses in one potions class would mean at least thirty students. Chaos was sure to ring true in the dungeons this year.  
  
The Sorting Hat was then brought out and placed before the first years. After a new version of its annual song, the sorting began. The eager Flitwick was literally on the edge of his seat, peering anxiously down upon his young great niece. Snape sighed, crossed his arms, and sat back for the long and dreary wait. Sorting sixty-one students was no swift task. In fact, it took an entire hour and a half for it to be completed. Flitwick, who was quite disheartened that his great niece had been put into Gryffindor instead of his house Ravenclaw, had been quiet and slightly dejected since the I's had been called.  
  
When the last student, Jonathan Whimpleton, had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Dumbledore rose from his seat to give his beginning-of-term speech.  
  
"First, I should like to welcome you all to a new and -for some of you- first year at Hogwarts." He paused and smiled to the person on his right. "As all of you know, Voldemort -several first years gasped in fright- has returned. None of you should feel threatened by this. He cannot come here, so, for the time being, you are all safe." He smiled. "For safety precautions all trips to Hogsmeade have been canceled for this year."  
  
This caused a small uproar with the students, but Dumbledore hushed them with a wave of his hand.  
  
"To make up for this, we have formed a council to organize various events for the entire student body. You will all learn more of this later. I have but two more items of information for you all before we eat."  
  
Because Dumbledore was standing, Snape could not clearly see the two people rising on his right.  
  
"We have two new teachers this year. First is Professor Silva. She has come here from Argentina, and although she is bilingual, she has not spoken English for some time. She is quite out of practice, and I trust that you will all help her in understanding the ways of our school."  
  
Snape heard Professor Silva take her seat.  
  
"Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Burgoyne. She graduated from here quite some time ago and has been working with the Ministry of Magic till now. Now with that all said..."  
  
Dumbledore summoned the food, and everyone began to dig in with gusto. Soon the entire hall was again filled with the sound of voices. It was so loud that one could barely hear the person next to them. Snape didn't mind this. Flitwick was going on and on about something while Trelawny was predicting the end of the world or something of that nature.  
  
It was past ten o'clock when the first group of students headed off to bed. Prefects then took the still lively first years off to show them their dormitories. Snape could see Harry Potter with his two friends Weasley and Granger as the two lackeys led their sheep, as their badges required them to do. Potter looked thoroughly pathetic. Snape was well aware of Black's death, and he couldn't honestly say he was pleased about it. No matter how much he loathed that miserable git, he never truly wished for his death. Not because he cared, mind you, but because the teased-and-humiliated-to- the-point-of-torture-school-boy lives mostly so he might one-up his adolescent antagonists. Black's death caused the same feeling in Snape as that James Potter's had. Snape always wanted to prove himself, to somehow make them feel like they had made him feel. But now that they were dead, he was powerless. All his hard work had been for nothing, and he was consequently humiliated yet again. If they hadn't been so fond of living, Snape would have suspected that they'd planned their deaths just to spite him more.  
  
Hollow with hatred and filled with food, Snape left the table and the Great Hall. The only thing he wanted at this moment was to sleep.  
  
But things weren't going to go his way tonight.  
  
The dark mark on his arm was telling him he had a meeting to go to.  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I hope you enjoyed this rather piddly first chapter. I don't know about you guys, but I am not a big fan of set-up chapters. On the other hand, I don't think it's very realistic to just jump into a plot, so y'all got a set-up. The next chapter is to be posted soon since this one was short and relatively dull for a fanfic. Please stick with me. I promise each and every reviewer good things, too. ;) Haha. Also, if you have any suggestions or requests, you can e-mail them to me, and I promise to consider all of them (unless they're mean. I have such tender feelings, after all *puppy eyes*).  
  
Good day and be safe! 


	2. How He Feels About Himself

Disclaimer: Not mine, man. I'm just borrowing the ideas. I swear that's all.  
  
1 The Half / He Lacks 2  
  
Chapter Two: How He Feels About Himself  
  
It was nearly four in the morning when Snape aparated into Hogsmeade thoroughly exhausted and hungry. He stopped to get a butterbeer and a well- past-midnight snack before he made his trek out of the area, into Hogwarts territory, and across the school grounds. Once inside the school, his first destination was not his dormitory in the chilly dungeons, but the second floor where the professors' bathing area was located.  
  
Snape drew his wand from his sleeve and stuck it into the visor of the eleventh suit of armor down the Arithmancy hall. Then he uttered the password.  
  
"Hello. Hello, my little tin can man." He removed his wand.  
  
The ends of the slits of the visor turned upward as if smiling. Silently, the heavy -and normally would be clanging- suit of armor pranced aside, curtsied, leaped into and through the brick wall, and then was no more.  
  
Or so casual observers such as us might think.  
  
Within a few seconds, an entrance into a secret room appeared in the wall, and the suit of armor stood inside waiting. Snape crossed the threshold that hadn't been there a moment ago. Inside was a large, steamy rectangular bath in floor of mixed tiles the hues of white and black pearls. There were toilet stalls and sinks on the far wall all of which were in the shape of oysters. On both the sides adjacent to the entrance hung paintings with the same theme and two vanity mirrors apiece.  
  
Snape turned to the suit of armor and said, "Farewell. Farewell, my little tin can man."  
  
The suit of armor bowed and left. The entrance into the room vanished with his departure.  
  
Being a Hogwarts professor for many years, Snape had learned the bathing habits of his fellow educators, thus he knew at what time he was able to bathe in private. This time was from two to four in the morning, which weren't the choicest hours to take a bath, he had to confess, but he would rather disrupt his slumber than soak with the other professors. Not only did he wish to never see any of them in the nude, he refused to be naked in front of them. Wearing swimming trunks was not an option either.  
  
Snape would not admit it to us, but we are aware of how Snape has always been teased about his looks. When a person is criticized for his or her appearance on a daily basis for his entire adolescence, he or she tends to have low self-image and does not to want to show anyone his or her body.  
  
But other than that, he didn't want any of the other professors to see Little Snape Winkle. For God's sake, even McGonagall had been his teacher at one point.  
  
Fully aware that he was alone and that those bloody Weasley twins were no longer attending Hogwarts, Snape was able to undress and proceed with his bath peacefully. On the floor beside the bath was a small open-mouth oyster- shaped bowl that held a white pearl. Snape plucked this orb from the oyster, which then sputtered and coughed, flapping its top half open and shut in the process, before reverting to its original position, a new white pearl replacing the previous.  
  
Snape, however, ignored this odd and wondrous spectacle and dropped the pearl he had claimed into the warm water. The pearl burst forth a series of sudsy bubbles that soon filled the bath. On one side of the bath was a shallow end that was designed so the bather could simply walk down into the water. Snape made his way down this part, which was keenly bewitched so it would not be slippery. He eased into the water until his feet no longer touched the bottom. Then he inhaled and began floating about on his back.  
  
He stayed like this until he realized he had to go to bed. He climbed out of the tub. There was no need for him to wash the soap away for it magically disappeared as he left the water.  
  
Snape stood fully naked in front of one of the mirrors. His greasy hair was not much better wet, hanging twisted around his face and dripping. As pale as his face was, the rest of his gaunt body was more so. He looked like a ghost and knew the first years would think he was one were he to run naked into their dormitories. The thought made him smirk, and his smirk in turn made him grimace.  
  
Never would he say he cared about appearances, but in the far recesses of his soul and mind, he knew he loathed his own.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Woah. I honestly did not mean to make such a  
short chapter. I was just writing, and where I  
ended it seemed like a good ending, so I left  
it. If you prefer long chapters, please don't  
hate me for my little ones so far. I truly feel  
these first two chapters are important, so we  
all understand the psyche of my fanfic Snape.  
It's a big part of the fic, I think. I will  
update very soon, so if you're enjoying  
yourself, come on back for more. There is  
plenty. *smiles graciously and flutters  
eyelashes* And please review on your way out! 


	3. How the First Day Goes

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. That's all you need to know. Or is it? I don't know. .... They aren't mine.  
  
Quick Pre-Chapter Author's Note: Chapters one and three have been modified a bit due to Spanish Gal's corrections. I chose for Professor Silva to be from Argentina because of a children's soccer camp thing where my group was the Argentina group, so that particular country is special to me because of that. What was the problem with this? Nothing really. Except that they speak espan~ol a little bit differently down there. *pout* Languages are so difficult. Even non-English ones. Anyway, here is chapter three with the corrections!  
  
1 The Half / He Lacks 2  
  
Chapter Three: How the First Day Goes  
  
The first day of classes did not go well for Snape, nor did it go well with any of his students. Because he had gotten so little sleep, he was grumpier and surlier than usual. The second through seventh years were accustomed to Snape's foulness and realized how foul a temper he was in, but the poor and inexperienced first years were given the impression that this was their Professor Snape on a regular day. To say the least, they were dreading the year's Potions lessons.  
  
Even the Slytherins were wary of their Head of House. Draco Malfoy was smart enough not to open his thin-lipped mouth too much. Pansy Parkinson herself took a hint from Malfoy when she questioned him what had 'crawled up Professor Snape's arse' and he didn't reply.  
  
The sixth year Gryffindors were only a little better off than the first years. Snape gave them all an extremely difficult potion to make before he locked himself away in the storage room to escape from the students and to maybe, possibly attain a bit more sleep.  
  
But then that bloody, bumbling Longbottem boy had to go and forget to remove the veins from the fish eyes before mixing them with the rest of the potion. The first and very noticeable indication to the mistake was not the dust-bunny gray color the concoction turned but the vile odor seeping from the cauldron. The stink filled the entire dungeon and then began to work its way under the crack of the door leading to the storage room. Snape, who was at that moment just nodding off to sleep, was abruptly disturbed by the stench.  
  
Before he knew it, he was banging about in the storage room belting out every foul word he knew. When he finally threw the door open, the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were all staring at him wide-eyed.  
  
"Fourty fucking points from Gryffindor! Now get out of my classroom!" he shouted even though at the time he did not know for a fact that it was Gryffindor at fault.  
  
No one had to be told twice. Everyone grabbed his or her things and hurried to the door. But that rotten Neville Longbottem was still fumbling to put his parchment and quill away.  
  
"You foolish boy!" Snape hissed down at him. "You miserable- I told you to get out!"  
  
Neville leapt from his seat and ran out of the room, his parchment flapping after him like a banner.  
  
Snape snapped out the spell to remove the potion from the cauldron, but the smell was still all throughout the room and would remain all throughout the room for weeks to come. Cursing under his breath, Snape wandered a sleepy path to his desk, sat in his chair, and laid his head upon his desk. The wood was cold, yet it felt nice after a few seconds. The smell really wasn't so bad if you just....  
  
"¿Hola? ¿Profesor Snape? Sus estudiantes all just passed by la puerta de mi clase (the door of my room) in quite aprisa (hurry). Esta´ something wrong?"  
  
Could no one leave him alone when he wanted to be left alone the most? Snape groaned and glared at the woman standing in his doorway. He had never seen her before, so he assumed she was one of the new teachers. He was too tired to remember her name. All he could remember was something about her being Spanish or whatever.  
  
"¡Poooo! Smells like alguien (someone) screwed up su potion, no?" The woman covered her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her robes as she entered the dungeon. "¿Que´ esta´n ustedes (what are you all) making?"  
  
Snape was still glaring at her. He did not respond.  
  
"¿Que´?´" she asked, approaching his desk. She peered at him as he in turn glared up at her.  
  
"Usted (You) no look like usted got any sleep, no?" She pointed at him and then outlined the bottom of her under eye to indicate her meaning, which he grasped easily enough.  
  
"Sod off, Maria," he countered, giving her a gesture of his own.  
  
Clearly the woman's name was not Maria because there was an intense moment in which she looked furious -and for good reason- but then she calmed herself, turned, and quietly left the room.  
  
Snape glared after her. He fell asleep soon after.  
  
*****  
  
He didn't wake until later that evening when he heard the dungeon door shut. Slowly rubbing his eyes, he opened them to see a mound of cloth in front of him. He jolted to an upright position, his back and neck popping loudly. Wincing at his bubble wrap bones, Snape looked straight into the eyes of the owner of the mound and the cloth.  
  
It was the woman from earlier. And she was sitting on his desk.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Snape asked. There was very little malice in his voice, but this was only because he wasn't fully awake.  
  
"Estoy aqui´ (I am here)," she began, "for su apology. I thought maybe usted had thought about lo que´ usted said, pero I veo (see) that you haven't been doing mucho (much of anything)."  
  
"...What?" He had absolutely no idea what she was saying.  
  
"Are you going to apologize or not?" she said slowly and distinctly. She didn't seem angry anymore. It was more as if she was just looking for some simple information, not an 'I'm sorry' for a stereotype insult.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said it without thinking. He didn't know why he said it; he rarely if ever expressed regret for anything even if he was somehow I the wrong.  
  
"I accept," she replied. Then she set a plate of food in front of him. "You missed la cena (dinner), so I brought algo (some) for usted."  
  
Snape didn't say anything. His mind was already at work trying to figure out her motive for being nice to him.  
  
"¿No tiene hambre?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Lo siento (I'm sorry). You are, how you say, not hungry, ¿no?" She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, waiting for his response.  
  
Snape didn't know how to react. She was a professor, so he did not want to be rude, but he wasn't known for being friendly or polite. To keep himself from saying anything he might regret, he filled his mouth with the meal she'd brought. This was a good enough answer to her question anyway.  
  
They sat in silence, and Snape suddenly felt very aware of how loud he chewed. In the Great Hall, one could never hear the noises of food in the first stage of digestion. He ate almost meekly once his desperate hunger had subsided a bit. During this time the woman did not move from her perch on his desk, and he would have told her to remove herself from it if he weren't so busy concentrating on his manners.  
  
When he had finished, she took his plate, hopped off his desk, and left the dungeon with a simple 'Hasta luego.'  
  
For some time Snape remained seated at his desk at first wondering 'what the bloody hell' had just happened. Then he tried to analyze her motivations for being so... he didn't even know what she'd been. She hadn't smiled, hadn't been very polite. She'd been thoughtful and nice to bring his food, but why? It wasn't as if they knew each other. And why did she come back for an apology anyway? Well, he could sort of see why she wanted an apology, but she didn't seem to care if she received one. It was as if maybe she was just curious whether he would tell her that he was sorry or not.  
  
The word 'why' continued to circle about Snape's thoughts even as he tidied his desk, as he readied for bed, as he fell asleep, as he took his bath a few hours later, and as he fell asleep again. He was always dissecting people's minds, determining what was motivating them, what they were thinking. Maybe if he could understand what the hell that blasted woman was saying, he could understand what was going on.  
  
But even analytical intellects like Snape cannot always tell what a woman is thinking albeit they do understand her language.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
And there we have chapter three! I hope you all enjoyed it. I truly enjoyed writing it. I'm only a Spanish IV student, so please bear with me with the whole Spanglish deal. If you speak Spanish and notice any mistakes, please let me know. I'll try to fix them. Silva speaks to Snape formally. Usted is formal, this much I know. Haha  
  
Also, I hope everything made sense, and I hope it wasn't corny. First meetings face-to-face are difficult to write without becoming lame. ^.^'' I hope it was funny if not credulous.  
  
Please stick around for chapter four, and please leave as positive a review as you can. I'm a very insecure little girl, after all. *flutters eyelashes* Haha. 


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